The Lake
by Cantrella
Summary: Jamie Scott is assaulted and raped by a group of boys who break into her dorm room. Recommended to leave school for a while, she stays at the house of her old high school flame. Tensions rise as she heals as well as a possible...spark.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: Agony**

The pain was the worst part for her. It shot up between her legs, causing her to arch her back and scream. She twisted her legs trying to get rid of him and his thrusting attack. But the duct tape around her mouth muffled her scream, her legs were held down firmly by large strong hands, and he continued to push into her without pause.

He removed himself, groaning in satisfaction and she heard the zip of his pants as he closed them. She yanked futily at her hands tied to the bedpost above her head.

The sharp pain was now replaced with a dull, throbbing ache and she whimpered through the gag over her mouth. A hand slapped her face.

"Shut up" said a voice.

The air reeked with alcohol and sweat, moving shadows in the dark, those who were waiting their turn.

Another slid into her, and again she tried to get away. The hands on her legs tightened more painfully. Sweaty fingers pushed her shirt up to her neck, and began to clumsily fondle her breasts with enthusiasm.

"Damn, have you seen the size of her tits?" said Clumsy Hands, and she felt the grip on them tighten harder.

"Those are nothing. I've done bigger. She has a nice grip though. I might do her again after you're done."

"Man, fuck you," said someone holding her feet. "We all get a turn before anyone goes again."

The hours and the pain dragged by with incredible slowness. After a while she went limp and gave up struggling. Instead her mind went to a park, where she sat in a small cave overlooking the lake.

The hand slapped her again but she didn't respond.

"Shit, it doesn't feel so good anymore." Complained someone.

"That's 'cause you rode her so fucking hard you asshole! It's all your fault her pussy isn't as tight."

"Man let's get out of here then. It's almost morning anyway."

She didn't hear them go, didn't feel her legs being released or the door closing behind them. At the lake, the sun was going down behind the trees and she could feel a cold breeze ruffling her hair. A tear rolled slowly down her cheek. Her heart was swollen with longing to be there where she felt safe and happy. Her tired, abused body was shutting down. Without a struggle, she gladly gave in to the dark void of unconsciousness and passed out.

Bright lights wake her up, but she didn't open her eyes. Someone was leaning over her with a flashlight. In the background she heard her roommate Annie's hysterical voice explaining:

"I got back at like six in the morning and found her just lying on the bed like this."

"Did you touch anything in the room Annie?" a voice asked, it was calm and precise.

"I tried to wake her up and I also took the tape off her wrists and mouth. And I pulled her shirt down because it was up on her neck. Then I called for help"

"She was taped to the bed by her wrists?"

"Yeah her arms were stuck…I mean someone had taped them together around the bedpost. And she wouldn't wake up."

"I understand you were only trying to help her. But by meddling with the crime scene the fingerprints of her attackers may be compromised. We'll take her back with us and see if we can get some DNA samples off of her. Are the beer cans yours?"

"No, it's not allowed in the dorms."

"We'll take those too then and see if we can get anything off of them. Thank you for your time."

She drifted off to sleep and heard no more. Sleep was an escape from the pain for her now, where she didn't have to feel or remember anything at all…

Dr. Ellison looked down at the sleeping form on the bed.

"You say the victim was raped by at least 5 men who broke into her dorm rooms?" her voice rose incredulously.

"We were able to get at least five partial different handprints on the cans." Affirmed the Officer Blacksmith. "We were hoping you could get some DNA samples when she wakes up, and possibly get a full story of what occurred."

"Besides what we already know."

"All we know is there was at least 5 different attackers, but if she knows names or can describe their faces we can catch them before anymore women are assaulted. It was obviously a traumatic, and we don't know what the shock will do to her emotionally."

"It would be a traumatic experience for anyone to go through officer."

"Agreed."

"I'll see what I can do."

"I brought some of her personal belongings with her. Clothes, wallet, cell phone-in case she decides she wants to call family or friends. Actually her roommate insisted on me bringing her these things."

Dr. Ellison opened the wallet, checking the driver's license.

"Jamie Scott, born 1991, blond hair, brown eyes."

She snapped the wallet shut. "Thank you officer, I think that will be all," dismissing him. He touched his hat in salute and left, exiting the hospital.

A cold hand was touching Jamie's wrist, twisting it gently to the right, and then to the left. She lashed out instinctively, sitting up and looking wildly around. She was sitting naked on an examination table, with a screen surrounding her for privacy. Jamie pulled her knees up to her chest for protection, blinking in the bright light. There were only three people surrounding her, two nurses and a doctor, all female.

"Jamie. Please calm down." That was the doctor speaking. " You are safe now. The police brought you to the Sinai Institute and you have been unconscious for most of the day. We were doing some minor examinations on you until you woke up. We just need to look you over and make sure everything is okay."

Jamie curled up more, the paper crackling under her bare skin.

'Should we sedate her Dr. Ellison?" asked a nurse, and the doctor regarded the girl who was cowering on the table like a frightened, caged animal.  
>"No." She decided. "She's had her share of frightening experiences. Let's see if we can get her to cooperate without drastic measures."<p>

Jamie studied Dr. Ellison. She was a pale, fat woman, with white hair tied up in a bun and blue eyes. She seemed relaxed, yet there was an air of authority about her that commanded respect. And she was a female doctor. That made it easier. But she still hesitated.

"Jamie?" Said Dr. Ellison. "I need you to relax so I can compile a record of your injuries and get some DNA samples. That way we can have proof of who did this to you. You want that right?"

Jamie nodded.

"I promise it won't take too long." The doctor added, "and then we can send you home. Alright?"

Jamie shook her head. Dr. Ellison frowned. "You don't want to go home?" she said puzzled.

Jamie opened her mouth to explain but no sound came out. She wanted to explain that the only place she wanted to be was beside the lake, where she felt safe and happy. A nurse came forward cautiously.

"Could you open your mouth for me Jamie?" she said. Jamie obeyed reluctantly, and the nurse shone a penlight inside.

"Throat is coated and red." The nurse reported. " No doubt she was screaming through the gag for hours." Jamie nodded hard. "Possible laryngitis, or shock is causing muteness. She should be fine in a couple days." The nurse finished.

"Give Jamie a pen and pad so we can ask her questions then." Said Dr. Ellison. "After we finish the examination."

She held out her hand and with some reluctance, Jamie let her examine her arm.

"You were taped to the bed?" she asked. Jamie nodded.

"There is severe bruising on her ankles and lower calves, doctor." Said a nurse, looking at her bare legs without touching them.

"Did they hold your legs down Jamie?" inquired Dr. Ellison, and Jamie nodded again, the fear clutching the pit of her stomach as she remembered. She flinched, startled as another nurse examined her other arm, and Dr. Ellison waved them away, examining the arm herself.

Half an hour later they had all the data they needed and taken swabs to test for DNA. Jamie was then free to climb down and put her change of clothes on in the restroom.

Locking the door behind her, she put her clothes on, trying to avoid the bruised and sore areas with her hands and eyes as much as possible. Finishing, she looked up and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. A stranger looked back.

Her skin looked paler then usual under the florescent lights, her hair still messy and disheveled. Bruises covered her neck, disappearing under her shirt. Her right cheek had a bruise in the shape of a handprint on it from being slapped repeatedly. She seemed to be cowering, even from her own reflection, as she pulled the long sleeves lower to hide the discoloration on her wrists. Her face was expressionless, her eyes flat and dull brown, with heavy circles around her eyes from lack of sleep. _"I look dead_" Jamie realized, but instead of feeling sadness for her transformation, she just felt empty. "_Maybe I am dead inside_." She thought.

Michael Campwell was sleeping, snuggled warmly under the covers with his girlfriend Emma, when his cell phone rang. Drowsily, he fumbled for the light beside the bed, and squinted around the room, looking for the damn phone. The ringing seemed to be coming from Emma's crumpled shirt and pants pile on the floor and he pushed it aside, grabbing the phone and flipping it open before the last ring.

"Hello?" he croaked wearily, and sat up yawning, rubbing his hand against his short beard.

"Michael Campwell? This is Dr. Ellison from the Sinai Institute, I apologize for the lateness of the hour."

"What's this about?" he asked, and looked to see that Emma was stirring next to him, a hand over her eyes against the glare of the lamplight.

"I am calling in regards to your friend Jamie Scott, she requested you until such time as her parents can pick her up."

A stab of fear hit Michael and he gripped the phone tightly, trying to keep his voice from cracking.

"Jamie? What's wrong with her?"

"She was attacked and raped 24 hours ago. She has been treated, and she is physically healthy, but we thought it would be best for her to be taken out of school for the time being. Her parents will be able to fly down and take her home on Monday, but she needed somewhere to stay until then."

Michael was already swinging his legs out of bed and pulling on his clothes.

"I'll be right there" he said, and hung up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Haven**

Jamie clutched the new note pad and pen to her chest as the nurse wheeled her down the hall. She stopped at an office door and pushed Jamie's wheelchair inside, closing the door behind them.

Dr. Ellison looked up from a stack of reports she was reading at her desk. She took off her reading glasses and smiled tiredly at the pale girl in the wheelchair sitting across from her.

"Hello Jamie, feeling a little better now? She asked. Jamie opened the pad to a clean page and wrote something. She held it up for the doctor to read.

**'Everything still hurts.'**

Dr. Ellison nodded sympathetically.

"I'm afraid it will for a little while. But it should be better in a week."

'**Is Michael here yet?**' Jamie wrote.

"No, not yet Jamie. But in the meantime I was wondering if I could ask you some questions?"

**'Depends on the answers.**'

"Well for starters, could you give me your full name?"

'**Jamison Roxanne Scott."**

"That's a pretty name," commented Dr. Ellison, as she wrote it down, mostly for the sake of conversation.

'**It was my great-grand mother's"**

"Your age?"

**'20'**

"And you live in North Carolina now?" said Dr. Ellison checking her records.

'**Yes but I was born here.'**

What are you studying in school?"

'**Dance.'**

"Do you enjoy it?"

**'Of course.'**

The slight cheek in the last answer made Dr. Ellison do a slight double take as she wrote it down. Jamie was already getting over her ordeal enough to sass her authority. She hid a slight smile. Jamie put down her pen, waiting for the next question.

"Could you tell me about what happened last night?" The reply was swift.

'**NO.'** Jamie glared at Dr. Ellison from behind her pad. She might like the doctor behind the desk and trust her enough to examine her bruises, but she wasn't going to talk about what happened yet. Her mouth set in a determined line.

"Why not? Don't you want to put them in jail?"

**'Not ready.'**

Dr. Ellison leaned over the desk, looking at Jamie.

"Jamie. I know you had a rough experience and I understand you are scared of reliving everything. But the sooner you tell us everything, the better chance we have of catching them, and the better chance we have of making sure that they don't attack anymore innocent girls like you."

The comment stung slightly but Jamie just pointed at her pad again for emphasis.

**'Not ready.'**

In afterthought Jamie added, **'Shouldn't the police be asking me these questions?'**

Dr. Ellison nodded. Why was she doing this? It wasn't any of her business. Her job was to examine the victim and if she happened to talk about the incident she was to be advised to repeat it to a police officer. The truth was…she had come to be rather fond of Jamie in the few short hours she had met her. There was a resiliency in the girl hiding under the surface that showed as she glared up at the doctor from her wheelchair.

Dr. Ellison shook her head to clear it. Perhaps she was getting soft in her old age-well maybe she wasn't that old but still…

Jamie had written something on the pad and now she held it up.

**'Can I see Michael now?'**

Dr. Ellison sighed.

"Won't you consider bringing in a report once you are ready to talk?"

Jamie scowled and scribbled something, then held up the pad.

**'Not now. Later.'**

"Promise?"

'**Fine.'**

She snapped the pen cap on and looked at Dr. Ellison expectantly.

"Thank you Jamie. You may go see your boyfriend now."

A slight flush rose in Jamie's cheek and she wrote quickly, '**he's not my boyfriend!**' before the nurse wheeled her out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Michael was waiting impatiently in the waiting room, thumbing distractedly through maternity magazines that he wasn't interested in anyway. A nurse passed by, clipboard in hand, off to some important buisness. Another rolled a wheelchair up next to him and let the patient climb out, taking a seat on a nearby sofa. He glanced at his watch wondering how much longer he was going to have to wait.

"Mr. Campwell?" inquired the nurse and Michael looked up startled.

"Yes? Is everything alright?"

The nurse gestured to the huddled figure on the couch.

"We have finished our examination of Miss Scott. She is free to leave with you now."

Michael glanced at the person sitting next to him. The hair was a tangled mess so he could hardly see the face, just the hands clutching the note pad and pen to their chest. The person looked up and he did a double take. Jamie looked horrible. She sat nervously on the sofa, as if it was a time bomb about to explode, and her eyes flickered everywhere, jumping at the slightest noise.

"Jamie?" he asked, and her pleading brown eyes locked with his puzzled blue eyes. He was startled to see how scared she was; startled at the pain and fear reflected in them when usually they were so full of life and fun. She picked up the pen and pad and began to write, then held it up so he could see.

'**Can we go now?'**

It was then that he realized she couldn't talk.

Emma was still fast asleep when they reached his apartment. Michael closed the door to the bedroom, thinking longingly of how much he would rather be curled up under the warm covers then awake.

Jamie prowled the living room, closing the blinds and locking the windows and doors securely. She was calmer then she had been in the waiting room surrounded by noisy and bustling nurses and doctors, but she still flinched when he touched her on the shoulder and asked if she wanted tea or for him to make up a bed for her on the couch so she could go to sleep.

'**Tea please,'** she wrote to his disappointment, and he went to the kitchen to put some water on to boil.

Jamie scurried into her usual seat in front of the TV, but didn't turn it on. The silence that prevailed throughout the room was stifling, and he wished that she would start talking in her usual animated way, chatting about school and classes and how she hated Math and thought someone in English had a crush on her like she used to. She had always had the ability to brighten up his day and make him laugh, but now she just sat staring blankly into space, completely lifeless.

He pulled two cups out of the cupboard and set them on the counter, letting the small door where they were kept slam closed. Jamie's head snapped up like a deer caught in headlights and she looked around wildly. Realizing what had made the sound she slowly relaxed, sinking back into the chair to stare at nothing in a zombie-like trance.

Michael felt the start of a headache starting to form and he went to go quietly search for an aspirin. "_It's going to be a long weekend,_" he thought.

She was tied to the bed again, but this time she couldn't move at all. She felt them all around her, knew that the pain would start soon, but this time it would never end. She tried to scream but no sound came out. Then someone grabbed her shoulder and she flailed wildly, connecting with something soft and warm.

"Wow! Jamie, its me!"

Jamie opened her eyes and looked around. She was lying on Michael's couch, blankets tangled up around her legs and what had been a cup of tea smashed on the floor. Michael eyed her warily, wincing as he rubbed his solar plexus.

"Another bad dream?" he asked tiredly, and she nodded, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She had barely gotten any sleep the night before, and she kept nodding off throughout the day. Grabbing her notebook she wrote, **'I'm sorry for hitting you. Are you okay?**'

" I'll live," he said, forcing a smile. "At least you didn't hurt me as much as the tea I was drinking." He indicated the puddle on the floor.

**'I'll clean it up.**' She wrote.

"Nah, you're the guest. Stay here and I'll get a sponge."

**'They won't leave me alone.'**

Michael's face became serious.

"Who is "they" Jamie? Your attackers?" She remained silent. Her mouth closed firmly. "Jamie, you need to talk about this."

'**NOT NOW.'**

"Yes now! Jamie, you've been like this all night long!"

Angrily, Jamie picked up a pillow and whacked him with it. It was bad enough that every time she fell asleep she kept dreaming of what happened, but now Michael was nagging her to talk about? She glared at him, and for a second he saw his old friend from high school shinning through. Then it was replaced with the vacant, impassive face he had become used to seeing and she curled up on the couch, turning her back to him.

"Jamie…" he said softly, putting a hand on her sleeve. She flinched and pulled herself in more, ignoring him. Sighing in irritation, he went to go get the sponge to clean up the tea on the floor.

Emma called as he came back from tossing the broken cup in the dumpster outside. After a night of Jamie battling her nightly horrors they had agreed it would be better if Emma went back to her house for the weekend. Besides, it was easier on Jamie without strangers in the same house with her.

Michael was a "little" annoyed. After all, it was supposed to be their weekend together, just he and Emma, alone for two whole days with no interruptions…Emma's soft voice brought him back to reality.

"How is she?" she asked.

"Still plagued by whatever happened to her whenever she falls asleep, but still won't talk about it."

"Has her voice come back yet?"

"It either hasn't or she won't use it. I don't know."

"And how are you? Are you alright?"

Michael felt the frustration of the last 24 hours sweep over him and he gave vent to it.

"If by alright you mean I am constantly at the beck and call of a paranoid zombie who wakes me up in all hours of the night with her stupid pad and pen and keeps hitting me in her sleep when she has nightmares and is always jumping and hiding from her own shadow then yes, I am alright. In fact, I'm terrific," he finished sarcastically. "I am exhausted, I'm getting bruises from all the times she's hit me-"

"I feel sorry for her." Said Emma softly. "It must've been horrible, whatever she keeps remembering." Guilt flooded Michael at Emma's words. Of course she would be the one to see the big picture while he was only concerned that they weren't spending time together. That's what he loved about her, and he felt a lump rising in his throat, longing to see her again.

"Yeah…me too," he said. "I just wish she could move past this."

"Its only been two days Michael," she reminded him. "She's not going to get better over night."

"I know," he said guiltily, "its just hard…this was supposed to be our weekend."

"We'll have others." Emma said gently. "Anyway, I have to go now. But I was just checking in to see how everything was."

"Yeah, everything is great." Michael said tiredly.

"Just hang in there, sweetie. One more day left! I'll see you soon."

" Bye." He said, and heard her hang up, feeling more depressed then before. Forcing a cheery note into his voice he walked into the living room.

"So Jamie, how about we watch a movie and…" his voice trailed off as he noticed the blankets were thrown back on the bed was empty. The rooms were empty and Jamie was nowhere to be found. Michael checked the bathroom just in case he was over-reacting. No Jamie.

Walking back into the living room he noticed for the first time a note on top of the blankets. In Jamie's handwriting was scrawled, '**going for a walk, be back soon.'**

Michael swore. He wasn't going to let her be outside by herself. He'd have to go look for her. Luckily, he had an idea of where he might find her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Healing **

Jamie watched as the sun set slowly and majestically behind the trees. A quiet breeze stirred ripples on the lake and she shivered, wishing she had thought to bring a warmer coat with her. Or any coat at all. All she had was her long sleeved shirt but already goosebumps were beginning to break out all over her skin.

And yet, for the first time since her attack, she was at peace. The chirruping of the birds didn't send her into a panic; the buzz of mosquitoes didn't speed up her heart rate at all. She breathed deeply, smelling the cold in the evening air. Perhaps the reason she was drawn here was all the memories. This had always been their place. She and Michael had always come here when they were in high school, and when she had moved; this was always their rendezvous point when she visited.

It was Michael who had shown her the cave where she was now, coaching her to walk along the narrow ledge to the small cave tucked in the rock. She felt safe here, knowing that the cave was hard to see from the path, and that no one was in the park at this time of day so she was completely alone. She leaned against the cool rock wall. She didn't want to go back yet. Not after over hearing Michael talking to Emma. She looked down at the pad on her lap. Maybe…here she would be able to write out her story. Gripping her pen firmly, she began to right, hesitantly recalling the night onto the page.

' **My roommate Annie had gone to a party at her Greek house and wouldn't be back until morning. I was practicing a dance for my class the next day when someone knocked on the door. He said he was a friend of "my roommate" and he had come to borrow a book for a class they had together. I opened the door and what seemed like a crowd of them pushed in. I realized someone thing was wrong when I saw they all had some sort of mask on to hide their faces. Three boys were carrying six-pack cans of beer, though they were already drunk. I tried to get out and run to the Prefect on our floor, but they grabbed me and forced me down on the bed, tying my wrists to the bedpost with tape from Annie's desk. I was kicking as hard as I could until two of them grabbed my legs, holding them down painfully. I couldn't yell because there was a piece of duct tape over my mouth. I tried to scream anyway and one of them slapped me until I stopped. He had a large class ring on one hand that hurt a lot, and he told someone else to turn off the light so it would look like I was asleep.'**

Jamie stopped writing as she heard someone on the trail nearby. Her hands were shaking, remembering what had happened, and she froze, hoping that she wouldn't be heard and that whoever it was would go away. The light was fading fast and she belatedly realized she hadn't brought a flashlight. Her heart skipped a beat as she heard someone moving on the ledge toward the cave. Frantically, she scrabbled around for a rock to use as a weapon, then relaxed slightly as she recognized the dark-haired figure climbing into the cave.

She flipped to a fresh sheet of paper and wrote **'what are you doing here?'**

"Thought I should find you before it got too dark," said Michael lightly, but he looked annoyed. '**I told you I was going for a walk. I was going to come back.'**

"Which is a little confusing seeing that you jump out of your skin all day at the slightest sound but then…oh, you decide you're well enough to walk out the moment I turn my back?"

'**I figured you could use some time NOT looking after me.'**

Michael flushed slightly, embarrassed.

"You heard me talking to Emma."

'**No duh.'**

Here on the lake she wasn't scared anymore, and she just glared accusingly at him from where she was leaning against the wall. He glanced at her curiously.

"Is this why you wanted to stay with me? Because of this place?"

"_I was always reminded of you here, and that made me happy. Because I love you." _She thought. But instead she wrote, '**Memories. How did you know I was here?**' He squinted in the failing light to read the pad, then shrugged.

"Only place we both know really well."

'**This was our place.'** She wrote sadly. Michael stiffened slightly as he read it, and looked away.

"I know." He said quietly.

Glancing at her again he noticed she wasn't fidgeting as much as she had been, nor was she staring blankly into nothing. The shadows caught her profile as she looked out over the darkening water. He caught his breath, realizing how beautiful she was. Jamie shivered, and he noticed she wasn't wearing a coat, and her teeth chattered in agreement. He pulled off his coat and held it out to her, but she shook her head and wrote, **'you'll be cold.'**

"I'm warmer then you are now." And he slipped the coat over her shoulders, noticing she didn't flinch, but merely pulled the coat on, hugging it closely to her. He held out an arm to her and she hesitated before snuggling close to him trustingly, and he wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her thin shoulders to warm her up. She froze, and then relaxed, moving closer, laying her head on his shoulder, and feeling safe and secure in his arms. Her hair smelled like apples, he realized, resting his chin on her head, and he breathed the scent in and held her tightly.

They stayed that way as the light faded completely from the sky, listening to the sound of bats flapping around in the dark, hunting for insects, the wind rustling in the trees, feeling as if they were the only two people in the world. And, for that moment, they were.

Jamie sat on the tile floor feeling the hot water run over her body. _"Relax"_ she thought, _"breathe in, out, 1…2…3…" _she tensed up again, remembering Michael's arm around her, his chin on her head.

A tingle of warmth shot through her that had nothing to do with the hot water flowing over her back. "Michael," she thought wistfully, then slapped her hand on the ground, bringing herself back to the present moment. _"No! He's my friend!"_ she thought angrily, _"he's taken, I can't have him!"_

She stood up swiftly and winced, her sore muscles protesting. " _Jamison Roxanne Scott, you really are something else,"_ she thought, looking over her body and its fading mottled bruises. _"Two days after you get raped, and you're already falling for your high school flame again."_ Then, "_who am I kidding? I never stopped falling for him."_

She smacked her head gently against the wall then turned off the water. Stepping out of the shower she pulled a towel from the rack and whirled around as she heard the bathroom door open.

"I just thought you would like some-" Michael froze, a stack of clothing in his hand as he gaped, turning a bright pink. "Uh-extra c-clothing I got you some fresh clothing so you don't have to be in a towel-well obviously you wouldn't be wearing a towel you could-I mean…Never mind I just brought you these-here!" He tossed the clothes at her and dashed out, banging his shoulder painfully against the door as he went.

Jamie inspected the dropped offering, a dark Star Wars shirt and a pair of grey drawstring sweats. She put them on, feeling as if she was drowning in the clothes-they were much too big for her. Glancing in the mirror, she took a breath. The bruises were fading; her eyes seemed to be a little brighter. She opened her mouth but only a rusty croak came out. _"I'm a little better,_" she thought hopefully.

In the bedroom Michael buried his face in a pillow. "Stupid idiot" he thought grimly. What had he been thinking? That she would be dressed instead of wearing a towel? "_At least she was wearing a towel_." He thought, and tried to shake away that thought as something that shouldn't have hardened. Emma would be furious if she found out.

He closed his eyes, but the image of Jamie seemed imprinted on the inside of his eyelids, her light brown hair dark and dripping wet, the droplets running down her skin. Her eyes, large and doe-like, startled at his entrance, seemed vulnerable, the dark bruising marking her fair skin. He hadn't realized she had so many on her. For a second he had a satisfying fantasy of single-handedly beating up the monsters who did this to her, pummeling boys without faces to the ground until they begged forgiveness for their crimes. That would teach them to mess with his-

The bathroom door creaked open and he caught a glimpse of her padding out and sitting on the couch. She was writing on her notepad, and he thought she wanted to ask him a question, or maybe she was finally talking about her experience? A surge of satisfaction filled his chest. "_She's getting better_" he thought, "_she'll be back to normal soon."_

'**In the dark two of them fumbled blindly, trying to pull my pants off. I could smell the beer on them, I was kicking out but they were stronger and held my legs still yanking my pants and underwear down to my ankles. Then I heard a fly being unzipped, and I struggled harder. One of them crawled on top of me; I felt as if my legs would pop out of their sockets I was fighting so much. Then it was as if I was being ripped from the inside, listening to him grunting in pleasure. Every time I tried to twist away or scream he slapped me, but I kept fighting him and everyone else. The rest watched, drinking beer, as if it was some sort of sport and not torture. As soon as one was satisfied another climbed on top of me, it seemed like there was no end…'**

Jamie stopped writing. Her hand was shaking again, and she hugged herself, feeling her sense of calm from the lake slipping away. In the night they could be anywhere, surrounding the apartment maybe, waiting for a chance to attack her again…A whimper built up in her throat as she tried to breathe.

She was safe now, Michael would make sure of that…She jumped as he came into the room, busying himself by rinsing the dishes, stowing them in the washer. She watched him work, his slim figure moving around the kitchen, and saw as he leaned down to turn on the washer that his bangs kept getting in his eyes. "_He needs a haircut_" she thought affectionately, and looked away as he glanced toward her, as if feeling her stare.

She picked up her notepad and turned to a fresh page, writing quickly then walking over to Michael in the kitchen. He spun in surprise, feeling her light touch on his shoulder. She held up the pad for him to read. '**Will you play for me?**' it asked.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Desire

Michael flexed his fingers over the keyboard, cracking each knuckle before settling his fingers over the keys.

A gentle stream of notes flowed from the battered piano, the soothing melody wafting like a butterfly on the wing to where Jamie was curled up on the couch. It was if a curse had been broken, and suddenly the darkness outside didn't seem so scary anymore, and she felt a sense of peace drift over her again. And suddenly she was back in high school again, listening to Michael play in the band room during lunchtime, watching him perform the songs he had invented just for fun. Her eyelids drooped, and she yawned, exhausted. Within second she had drifted into a gentle slumber, her pad and pen sliding from her limp fingers and falling on the floor. Michael played on, inventing the melody as he went, his fingers dancing, flying skillfully over the blacks and whites.

Glancing over at the couch, he saw she was sleeping soundly, blankets tucked snugly under her chin. She looked more like the Jamie he used to know, without the fear from the last two days stamped over her features. Ending the song, he gently tucked in the covers more tightly around her, and then picked up her pad, meaning to put it on the table next to her. Curiously he flipped through the pages, stopping at the notation, " **my roommate Annie had gone to a party…"** and felt a chill run down his spine as he started to read Jamie's narrative. When he finished reading, he sat down weakly, looking at the sleeping form on the couch, marveling how much she had been through. "No wonder she has nightmares," he thought, and cursed himself for his impatience with her.

He put the pad gently down on the table and stood, heading toward his bedroom when Jamie let out a quiet whimper. Michael spun around in alarm. She was tossing around fitfully, striking out at her unseen attackers. For the first time in days, she screamed. A long, drawn out scream of terror, grief, pain and anger all wrapped up in one. She sat up then, looking wildly around the room, trembling and searching for her tormentors. He was by her side in a second, and she clung tightly to him, sobbing with her newfound voice and he was cradling her in his arms with the smell of her hair wreathing him, promising her that he would make sure she was never hurt again and he would keep her safe forever.

Impulsively, he gathered her up in his arms, carrying her down the hall and depositing her gently on his bed. They lay there on top of the covers, clinging to each other, neither wanting to let go of the embrace. She was still sobbing, though she had calmed down somewhat and after a while she let out one, shuddering sigh and stopped crying all together.

She burrowed next to him, laying her head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, one hand gripping his shirt tightly and she was soon fast asleep again.

Michael lay with his head on the pillows looking down at her. A shaft of moonlight spilled through the window, lending her face a soft glow as he stroked her hair gently, feeling as if he was going to burst from the tenderness he felt for her.

He wanted to keep her by his side always, so she would never he hurt again, protect her gallantly with his last dying breath…

"I love you," he whispered, and gently kissed her on the forehead. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open and she smiled up at him, letting go of his shirt and sliding her hand up, gently stroking his face, delighting in the feel of his whiskers under her fingers. Tenderly taking her hand away from his face, he kissed each fingertip, sending warm shivers of pleasure down her arm.

He lifted her arm up and draped it around his neck, pulling her closer to him. Michael kissed the top of her head, her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, and then she lifted her chin up, brushing his lips with hers. They parted for a second, then all sense and reason took flight and they collided with each other at full force. Michael cradled her head and neck with one hand, forcibly crushing her mouth in his, moustache tickling her upper lip, his other hand pressed into the small of her back, as if trying to merge her body into his.

Jamie wrapped her leg around his waist, pressing herself into the hardening lump in his pants. Thrusting her hands into the back pockets of his jeans, she pushed in harder, drawing a grunt of pleasure from him. He gripped her tighter around her waist and she let her hands explore higher, feeling his back through the soft shirt. Her hands caressed his neck gently, and then she reached higher, tangling her fingers in his brown hair, relishing the silky feel. As she did her shirt hemline lifted, and Michael found his fingers exploring the smooth skin of her lower back.

"This…probably isn't a good idea…" he panted, trying to take a second to breathe.

"Shut up." She hissed, and thrust his hand up so it was cupping the gentle curve of her breast. Sparks exploded in Michael's brain and he rolled over, so he was straddling her, yanking the shirt higher as he did so.

Jamie's back arched in pleasure and she moaned under his touch, his fingers as skillful on her body as on the piano keys. With a groan she pulled her shirt of her head and pushed herself up, eagerly yanking his shirt off of him. Sighing with pleasure she ran her splayed hands for the first time over his bare, lean torso, lifting herself on her knees to press herself against him. In the moonlight she looked strangely ethereal, her hair tumbling in waves down her back. She kissed along his jaw line, his shoulders, stopping only when Michael pressed her back onto the covers, kissing her lips, down her neck, and then down the center of her chest, ending at the bellybutton line where her pants started.

Her slim hand reached down to untie the drawstring and he took the invitation from there, lifting her legs gently to slide the sweats off, tossing them on the floor. She lay there quietly, looking up at him, and then he was running his hands and mouth down her legs, causing her to moan when he found tender areas.

He paused and she took the moment to thrust her hand into his pants, temporarily robbing him of speech. Jamie pushed him over onto his back, savagely opening his pants and pulling them off him, admiring his body in the dim light. Leaning over, Jamie kissed him gently, pushing her tongue into his mouth as his arms encircled her, pulling her on top of him.

They lay cuddled under the covers, eyes drooping as they fought to stay awake, taking in each other's faces from the light of the moon.

"I love you Jamie," he whispered.

"I have always loved you Michael," she replied, and he kissed her slowly, buzzing with the feel of her skin on his. They drifted off into a contented sleep, Jamie waking up and hour later and taking in the scene of their desire. Michael was asleep in her arms and she watched him, a lone tear slipping down her face. She looked at the bedside table, with its picture of Michael and Emma smiling at the camera in a gentle embrace. Michael didn't deserve to be with her, not when she was already such a mess. He was entitled to something better with Emma, which due to her selfishness and lust had just been ruined forever. Unless…carefully she slipped out of bed, pulling the shirt and sweats back on. Michael usually slept with a shirt and boxers on and she carefully pulled these items on him, managing not to wake him from his deep sleep. Lastly she sent a text on his phone, before crawling into her bed on the couch.

Michael woke the next morning from a dream feeling happier then he had felt in a long time. Emma was curled in the crook of his arm sleeping. Frowning for a second, he shook away what must've been a dream. He kissed Emma, waking her gently.

"Have I told you how much I love you?" he asked, and she kissed him back.

"Not recently," she said smiling.

"Well I do," he said lovingly. Jamie listened from the couch, a tear of longing rolling down her face. Her text to Emma last night had asked her to come and Emma had slipped quietly in the house, climbing in with Michael, ignorant he hadn't sent the request.

"I love you too Michael," Jamie whispered.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Ending

She escaped from the house before either of them was out of bed, trudging up through the park, clouds of her breath showing in the early morning air.

She sat at the edge of the lake shivering, looking out over the grey waters bitterly. Morning mist hung over the water, obscuring the rocks and boulders on the opposite shore. It reminded her of a story she had read once, about a place called Avalon during King Arthur's time. It was supposed to be a place of great mystery and magic, and for a moment she wished it would appear before her so she could leave this place forever.

She had had him. For one night, Michael had been hers, he had told her he had loved her, and she had given him up.

There was a large rock lying on the ground and she threw it with all her might, sending up a big splash, droplets cascading in the air. She found a slightly smaller one and threw that as well. Then another, and another and another. After a while she ran out of big rocks and scrabbled for smaller pebbles and threw in a handful of them, each making tiny splashes out on the water.

And then she cried. She cried for the pain she had endured when she had been raped, she cried for the loss of her innocence. But most of all she cried because she loved Michael with all her heart, and he would never know because he was in love with someone else. She was still sobbing when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, and realized someone had come up quietly behind her, and was just sitting down by her side.

"Michael," she said, wiping tears away with the back of her hand. "I didn't hear you coming, I just wanted some time alone."

"Do you always come here when you feel the need to bawl your eyes out?" he asked, and she looked up into the soft blue eyes that had made her heart pound since freshman year of high school.

"Only when I'm in the area," she said, sniffing, and wiping her runny nose on her sleeve. He pulled a crumpled tissue from his pocket and gave it to her. She blew her nose loudly.

"Did you honestly think you could make me forget what had happened between us last night?" he asked, and she froze, trying to keep her face neutral.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You called Emma and told her to come over after I fell asleep. What, were you trying to tell me you actually don't love me in return? Because you should have said something instead of making me think it was a dream until I saw the text you made on my phone."

"Michael I-"

"Thought you could fix everything so it would seem like it never happened? What were you thinking Jamie?"

Jamie looked away, tossing some more pebbles into the water. Michael grabbed her head in both hands and turned her to face him. "Look at me!" he demanded, his voice sharp. "What were you thinking?" To his surprise he saw a tear well up in her eye and her chin quivered, as she tried to hold back tears.

"I was thinking," she said slowly, "that you don't deserve a screw-up like me who ruins your current relationship without thinking of the consequences." He let go of her and she went beck to throwing pebbles back in the water. She heard his sharp exhale of exasperation.

"If that's what you think of yourself then maybe I should." He said, and Jamie felt her heart twinge painfully. "The only problem is, you made me feel happier then I have ever felt in my life, and I would be an idiot to throw that away."

"What about Emma?" she asked, turning her head slightly to look at him. He brushed his bangs out of his eyes and look off into the distance.

"Emma…is a wonderful person. Any guy would be lucky to have her. But I'm not that guy, and I told her that. She took it pretty well considering…" he glanced at her and Jamie looked away, blushing slightly. Her voice sounded hoarse as she protested.

"Michael, it's a mistake, she's perfect for you, not me." Michael grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and turned her to face him again.

"I will make the decisions about my happiness. Not you. Understand?"

Jamie nodded numbly, a tear running down her cheek. And then Michael's arms were around her and he was hugging her fiercely. "Don't ever do that again," he said, his voice muffled in her hair. She simply nodded, at loss for words, a large lump in her throat.

She felt his hand tilting her chin up, and then he was kissing her gently, cradling her head in his hands. Jamie's arms were around his neck and she clung to him, kissing him back and feeling as she would burst from happiness in his arms.

The sun rose bright and golden as the mist disappeared, shinning down on the couple on the lakeshore. It was going to be a beautiful clear day, and for the moment, all was right in the world.


End file.
